


Clipped

by Icypeach



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fish out of Water, Fluff and Angst, Injury, Injury Recovery, Lance is a college student, Slice of Life, keith is an angel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:29:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icypeach/pseuds/Icypeach
Summary: Lance goes against his better judgement and takes the bleeding angel home





	1. Delayed

The five stages of grief, as Lance remembers, begins with denial. He's definitely feeling that, the air outside felt even crisper than it had earlier, his shoes pulling up snow with every step as he made his way out of the entrance of the airport. 

He hadn't taken his own shitty car in favor for an Uber, since he'd assumed it would be a one way trip. Lance sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket, pausing momentarily, his thumb over the call button, before tapping the Uber app and requesting a car. 

He honestly didn't have the spirit to let his mother know he would miss Christmas with the family so he decided it was a future Lance problem, He'd call when he got back to the apartment. Lance stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, bouncing slightly to get some sort of warmth into his body.

His driver is an older man, who's nice and talkative but Lance really doesn't feel like talking so he just let's the man go on about his plans with his family for Christmas and politely nods along, keeping himself propped against the cold glass of the window, eyes cast over the empty snowy streets.

The ride is short and Lance thanks the man before exiting his car, wishing him a quick 'happy holidays' like anyone would and closes the door. Although the man was simply trying to be nice, the talk about the holidays had seriously depressed him, “Ugh.” Lance groaned loudly. He should of gone to Veruda University.

Lance sadly tugged his luggage down the street. His apartment was less than a few blocks away, he'd decided to be dropped off in front of the convenience store so he could stock up on food for the snow storm that had grounded him and was set to arrive in less than an hour.

* * *

With arms full of groceries Lance made his way home, he had to make a tremendous effort not to lose his balance on the ice that had formed over the sidewalk. He stared at his feet as he trudged his way home to keep from slipping, minding his own business Lance just happened to glace over at the space between two buildings. 

He stopped dead in his tracks. Was that... a person? It was probably just some drunk dude. He pulled out his phone to dial the police because with the oncoming weather this dude could be in trouble and he thinks 'let a Person die three days before Christmas' wouldn't look very good on Santa's 'naughty or nice' checklist.

Lance slowly crept his way over, eyes wide as he tried to squint into the darkness of the Alleyway, “Buddy are you-” his stomach flipped at the sudden sight of blood. 

It started at the mans back and steadily made it's way down into the crisp snow staining it a horrible bright red. 

Despite better judgment, Lance got a closer look, curious as to how he was bleeding so much from his back and had to blink several times and rub at his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

At first he thought they were branches, protruding out of the man's back as if he'd had a run in with a tree but then Lance saw a glimpse of feathers, long jet black feathers that matched his long hair, some of them barely hanging onto the tips of each. 

They looked like the start of wings. 

Only the start though, after the first half foot or so they seemed to just stop. That's where the blood was coming from, the broken and mangled ends of them, Lance has to fight the urge to be sick right there on the sidewalk.

He's bent over the the snowy concrete, a hand pressed firmly to his mouth, when a woman's voice comes out of nowhere. “911 please state your emergency.” 

Lance jolts so hard he nearly drops his phone in the snow, he fumbles and catches it just before it hits the ground, then quickly whips it to his ear, “Uh hi-” he stops himself short.

'I found a naked man with wings please help me.' 

He couldn't just say that, What if some creepy scientist in an impossibly white coat came and did weird experiments to the poor guy. Or even worse, dissected him, Lance cringed at the thought. 

This was all so insane. He had to of been hallucinating, there was no way he'd just come across a naked Bird-man. 

He forced himself to take another look, just to make sure he wasn't actually losing his mind but no, the wings were still there, becoming even more and more obvious that they were in fact wings as time went on. Holy shit a man with wings, maybe it was some kind of conspiracy, like Pidge was always going on about and they'd be after him. Lance hadn't even *69ed his number. They'd know exactly who called-

“Sir, Hello are you there?” he nearly jumped out of his skin, having completely forgotten he was on the phone.

“Yes I'm here, I-uh,” anything other than the truth would be fantastic right now Lance. “I thought someone broke in but it ended up being my mom, sorry about that.” he said as breezily, not able to keep the slight tilt in his voice out. He didn't let his eyes wander from the Birdman even once, he was scared he'd disappear if his vision shifted away too long.

“It's alright,” The woman says in a dull voice. “But please make sure it's an emergency next time, we can't have people clogging the lines this close to the holidays.” 

“Haha sorry, happy holid-” the phone line went dead before he could finish, Lance stared at the screen. He barely had time to think about how rude it was of her, because he needed to do something. His mind was blanking, what the fuck was he supposed to do now.

Was he even alive? 

Lance's heart stopped as the thought crossed his mind, he slowly presses two fingers to the man's neck, he was absolutely freezing but there was a pulse. He sighs relieved, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. okay okay. 

So Birdman was alive, now Lance needed to stop the bleeding. How do you even stop that kind of bleeding. 

Using the little disposable knowledge he had leftover from a high school sports med, Lance takes the scarf off of his neck and carefully wraps it around the two protruding wings, he tries hard not to think about what he's doing, just ignore the feeling of warm blood on his hands. He only gags a few times, and that was an accomplishment of it's own.

His apartment was only half a block away. 

He sheds his coat, the wind absolutely biting his exposed skin, he pulls it over the man's shivering body then Lance carefully wraps one arm around the man's neck, trying to keep his long hair from getting pulled, and another under his knees. It was way past closing time for most stores, so if he ran He probably wouldn't be seen by anyone. The light from the street lamps bounce off of the snow and makes the otherwise pitch dark night bright. 

He holds Birdman close to his chest, using his shoe to muddle the bloody snow, make it less obvious, he shoulders his backpack of luggage and takes off as fast as he can towards home.

* * *

He almost drops Birdman trying to get the key in the door, but other than that it's fine. He manages to avoid attention from his neighbors and his landlord and after successfully unlocking the door with the key shoved between his teeth he get's in safely, closing the door with his back. 

The inside of his apartment is barely warmer than the outside, he had cut off his heating before heading out earlier in the day and it's the first thing he turns on after the lights. 

Lance didn't love his apartment but it was alright. It consisted of three rooms. The main being a kitchen with a few tall chairs directly across from a small living room, he had one couch with a coffee table in front of it and one love-seat. In the corner was a small TV, he didn't have cable but he did have a playstation. 

There was one small bathroom with a combination bath-shower and the last was his bedroom. It was mostly barren other than a queen sized bed, dresser, desk and a few posters. He decided to give Birdman the bed. 

He lay him on the couch carefully, making sure Birdman's wings aren't touching anything then rushes to his bathroom to grab a few towels. He lays them over his bed so they can absorb the blood and sweat that will surly stain his only sheets.

He doesn't manage to breath until he's finished cleaning and wrapping Birdman's wings and has him laid comfortably on the bed. A pair of pajama shorts on and the blankets pulled so that they lay just below the start of his wings, which he'd managed to wrap somewhat properly with the help of google. The bleeding had mostly stopped somewhere between the alley and the couch 'thank god'. 

But he'd found a few other injuries along Birdman's body. purple skin edging his ribs and plenty of other scrapes and bruises peppered on his face arms and legs. He had some deep cuts on his arms so Lance had wrapped up from his hands to his forearms in gauze. He'd bandaged the rest appropriately. 

The worst was a cut on the back of his neck, it took him a little too long to notice it because Birdman's hair went all the way down to his middle back, it was deep and brought up almost as many questions as the wings.

When he'd finally finished cleaning and wrapping and disinfecting, Birdman's breathing was a little better, and his body was starting to warm up thanks to the heating pad Lance had placed under him. Lance had even taken the liberty to tie his back length hair into a loose braid down his back, a skill he'd picked up from having younger sisters.

Even though he looked significantly better, Lance was worried, he'd pulled a chair from his tiny kitchen up to the side of the bed and decided to keep watch until he woke up. That's when he noticed his cheeks were flushed, a palm pressed firmly to his forehead would reveal the fever forming there. He got a clean rag and a bucket filled with water. He absorbed the water with the rag and put it over the mans forehead. He leaned back in his chair with a finished sigh. By that time the heating had kicked in and the room was finally comfortable.

He hadn't gotten the chance to get a proper look at Birdman until now. Now that he had the chance he couldn't help but take note of how pretty he was, his nose sloped, his eyes big and his lips heart shaped. He had a nice body too, a sturdy chest and curved hips.

In short, he was a very handsome guy, even with the dark bags under his eyes and the dirt on his face and the smell of sweat and blood that made the bedroom reek. Lance slapped his cheeks twice, he was not sitting here thinking that a Birdman was hot. He peaked one eye open and two glossy wide eyes stared back.

Lance almost fell out of the chair in surprise with a yelp, quickly composing himself and opening his mouth to say something, but nothing would come out. Birdman stared at him through heavily lidded eyes that were full of hostility and fear as they frantically ghosted over Lance's features.

“It's okay-.” Lance said as softly and steadily as he could, hands hovering, he wasn't sure if he should touch him or not. “You're safe now-”

“Where am I?” his voice comes out raw and whispered and Lance winces in sympathy because it sounds like it hurt. He should probably drink something. Lance holds a cup of water from the bedside up to his lips and he only pauses for a second before drinking greedily. He downs the whole thing in one go and lays his head back down with a heavy sigh. He lays there gazed for a moment before repeating the question, this time with a little more force. “Where am I?”

“You're at My place,” Lance sets the now empty cup back on the nightstand. “It's just us here and I'm not going to hurt you, you're okay.” Birdman looked like he was trying to fight the urge to pass out again, his eyes kept falling shut, each time they stay shut just that much longer , His face is skewed and it's obvious that he's anything but convinced in what Lance is telling him. Eventually his eyes close and stay close, his breathing evens out, he's asleep.

Lance swallows thickly, they were blue, his eyes were a deep navy blue. He's reeling, he wasn't actually sure what to expect, but it turns out Birdman can talk and act just like a normal person. 

It was then that Lance remembers the forgotten groceries he'd left back in the alleyway. Dammit.

* * *

Lance had, at some point in the night, made his way to the couch, kicking off his shoes sleepily and falling face first into it, not even bothering to fetch a blanket or change out of his clothes. He fell asleep almost immediately without actually meaning to. 

Before he knows it he waking up to footsteps and when he cracks open his eyes which are still heavy with sleep, Birdman is standing above him, a lamp clamped in his shaking hand, breathing heavy and face almost stark white. His eyes widen when he meet's Lance's.

Lance is just quick enough to avoid getting a Lamp to the face, instead it bounces harmlessly off the cushion and Lance manages to scramble up off the couch. Birdman holds the Lamp down at his side, 

He would laugh if that wasn't his mothers good lamp that she'd lent him. he's in a western standoff with a Birdman and a lamp. “What the fuck are you doing?” Lance says with more legitimate confusion than anything else. Birdman scowls at him, his eyebrows knitting together tightly.

“Let. me. go.” he says, even though his voice is raspy, Lance is surprised by just how much force he manages to put behind each word. He holds the lamp out at arms length, pointing it at Lance like a knife, as if daring him to do something. He really is shaking now, not just his arm but his whole body. His pale knees clack together, a bead of sweat drips off his chin. Lance's pants are too big on Birdman's smaller frame and hang dangerously off his hip. 

Lance blinks, finally processing his words. “Let you go? What are you talking about, I saved you!” Birdman looks even angrier, then to Lance's surprise he laughs, it's completely humorless and borderline hysteric, but a laugh no less.

“You saved me, what kind of mind games are you playing!?” Birdman shifts his weight, trying to find some sort of steadiness, “You're the one that did this to me!” 

completely dumbfounded Lance scratches the back of his head, although Birdman was obviously trying to be intimidating, he was anything but, Lance doubted he could take a few steps let alone fight him. “What gave you that Idea?” he asked “The fact that you woke up in my only bed, unrestrained? Your boo-boos bandaged-” Birdman's eyes narrowed, his lamp arm shaking so hard Lance wouldn't be surprised if it just gave out altogether. 

Birdman scoffed, it was amazing he could hold so much sass in that injured body of his, “No actually, I-It was the lock on the only entrance and the fact that my blood is all over your clothes.” 

Lance's face fell, he looked down at himself, where in fact there was dried blood all over his shirt just like Birdman had pointed out, he must have been way too invested in taking care of him that he'd forgotten to wash up himself. That was actually gross. And suddenly it made a little more since why he'd be attacking him. 

Lance smiled sheepishly “Oh, that. There's an explanation for that.” 

Birdman swallowed dryly, “Y-yeah what is it.” his face was starting to go green, the hair around his face was absolutely drenched in sweat now, and the blood had started soaking through the gauze on his wings and neck. 

Lance needed to hurry this up so he could get him back to bed. “I forgot to change after I carried you here and bandaged you up. Oh and the lock on the door, here let me show you,” he pulled into his pocket and held out the keys to him. “you can hold onto them if it will make you feel better, although I don't think you'll be better out there, there was a lot of snow last night.” 

Birdman looked at him, then at the keys. He swiftly snatched them out of Lance's hand in the same motion he dropped the lamp and Lance just barely managed to Catch it before it smashed all over the ground. It was a lamp his mother let him borrow dammit!

Birdman stumbled past him kicking Lance's bent over backside as he went and Lance ended up face down on the floor, ass In the air, it took him a good few seconds to gather what had happened. He turned over so he was sitting, just in time to see Birdman fumbling with the door, “Wait!” Lance called, climbing to his feet.

But He didn't wait, instead he opened the door and darted out into the snow. Shit. Shit. Shit. Lance chased after him, getting to the door and looking both ways down the long balcony, Birdman was at the opposite end already and like the freaking madman he was, climbing over the ledge as if he couldn't see the two story drop.

Lance just barely manages to get there and wrap his arms around Birdman's waist. Birdman yells out in protest or pain, Lance couldn't tell but he clamps a hand over his mouth, the last thing he needed was for his neighbors to get involved. 

For someone who looked so rekt, Birdman had a stubbornly large deposit of strength in him and Lance had to wrestle him all the way back inside, Birdman reaches back and hits any part of Lance he can make his feet or fists connect with, hard enough that Lance knows he's going to have bruises. He bites hard on Lances hand and it takes all he has not to cry out. 

When they finally get back inside Birdman manages to finally rip from Lance's grip and he all but drops him onto the floor, Birdman cries out in pain on impact and Lance slams the door closed. Before he can check on to see if he's okay, Birdman pushes himself up onto his forearms and glares back at Lance. 

He looks a million times worse now, shaking like a leaf, his face skewed in pain and completely gray, the snow barely looked as pale.

“Are you an idiot?!” Lance screams, way too loud, Birdman actually flinches. It's not what he means to say but it was sure as hell at the forfront of Lance's mind. 

He realizes suddenly that Birdman was trying to fly, not jump. The idiot didn't he know his wings were gone, didn't he know that he'd never be able to fly in the state he was in, maybe even ever. It made Lance sick thinking whether or not he knew, and if he didn't how the fuck Lance was supposed to tell him. He didn't even know who or what Birdman was.

They sit there panting for a while before Lance finds the courage to ask, “Why were you trying to jump off the balcony.”he already knows damn well but he has to check. Birdman scoffs as if it's the stupidest thing he's ever heard.

“what do you mean why?” he says between pants. “did you expect me not to try to fly away?” He lays down the rest of the way now, so that his cheek is resting on the cold tile of the floor. Lance wonders if his fever had gone down yet. 

He considers just telling him right then, that his wings are cut off halfway but he can't bring himself too. His mouth feels dry, “I... don't know how to make you trust me, but I promise I didn't hurt you, I just found you in the snow and couldn't leave you there. Call it holiday spirit or whatever.” Birdman rolls his eyes, then squeezes them tightly with a pained wince.

“What's wrong?” Lance frets, “I mean I know what's wrong but, you should eat” at the mention of food Birdman scrunches his face. “I know you're probably not hungry but you have to eat-”

“What, so you can poison me?” Lance can't help but groan this time.

“Dude you're killing me. It's so you won't get sick from the medicine.” honestly this guy, “Also, not to pop a hole in that infallible logic you got going on, but Don't cha think if I wanted you dead you would be dead?” It comes out far more sarcastic than he means but it's warranted at this point.

Birdman considers the words for a second, really truly considers it. “What's your name.” He asks finally, At least it's something. 

“Lance,” he answers immediately. 

“Keith.” 

Lance raises an eyebrow “What?” 

“My name is Keith.”


	2. Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Lance was human, what was he?

“You need help, Keith?” Lance asks, making a point to use the name he'd just learned, from his spot on the foyer floor. Keith had slowly begun moving again, trying hard to hoist himself against the wall, it was amazing how much fight he'd managed to put up in such an obvious state, but now the fight had left him and he was a trembling mess, all tangled hair, bloodied bandages and pale bare toes that had gone pink from his shoe-less trip in the frost.

Keith shakes his head hard and when he speaks his raspy voice falters, “N-no.” 

long thin fingers pull hair over his shoulder and that's when Lance notices the blood, dripping down Keith's back from the base of his neck. The cut that resided there must of reopened somewhere between the balcony and his apartment.

“Holdup,” Lance climbs to his feet with a sigh causing the other man to tense. his whole body goes rigged as if Lance had yelled the phrase, “You're bleeding again.” he informs, but the second his hand touches the bandages on Keith's neck, Keith meekly pulls away. 

“I'm fine, don't touch me.” 

Lance rolls his eyes, “You are absolutely not fine dude, you need to let me help you or you're going to get worse!” Keith glares at him over his shoulder, It's the first time Lance really notices just how piercing his eyes are, even with the dark bags under them and the bandages that cover parts of his face. 

They weren't bright by any means, but ferocious, and full of enough malicious intent, that for a moment, Lance's internal flight responses kick in and he takes an involuntary step towards the front door.

Then steels himself. “Quit with the face, where are you even going?” 

Keith looks away then, like he's thinking of something troubling, his feet shifting, the visible part of his ears going red. 

“Well?” Lance prompts.

“Bathroom.” Keith mumbles and Lance kind of wants to laugh, he didn't expect the guy to be embarrassed by something like that. 

“It's through my room.” 

Keith casts him a weary glance, the distrust obvious through his furrowed brows and pursed lip. Every step he takes looks like it hurts, he's leaning against the wall so heavily that Lance is sure he's going to pitch over the second it ends. He follows him close behind just in case he needs to reach out and hold him steady.

* * *

Lance takes the time that Keith is in the bathroom to give himself a quick wet wipe bath and change out of his bloody clothes to start making some breakfast for the two of them. As he cooks he can't help but zone out, mind racing with thoughts and questions and realizations. How the hell did he get himself into this situation. He was way in over his head, he knew this and so did Keith most likely.

A bird-guy named Keith. Lance was sure it would be something more suiting like 'fireeye' or 'stardust' or something clever, like a play on bird names. 'Jay' would have been hilarious for obvious reasons, he expected something close to that, not Keith. Keith was such an average and human name, which Lance wasn't sure he was.

Lance makes some toast with a toaster that's very obviously on the fritz then nearly slices his finger off, distracted, as he cuts some apple slices. Finally he fishes out some near expired aspirin from his cabinet. 

Unfortunately he wouldn't have anything stronger until the roads were cleared by big sweepers and the store a few blocks away was open. 

He puts everything on a tray and pads towards the bedroom, fully expecting Keith to be laying on his stomach in Lance's bed, so when He's not, Lance feels his own stomach drop like he's riding a roller coaster with a particularly tall drop. He places the tray on the bedside table and knocks on the bathroom door fully aware that more bumps in the road could quite possibly force him to rethink the whole situation. For both Keith and his own well being.

“Hey, I made food are you alright in there?” Lance asks cautiously. 

There's a few moments of painful silence and right when Lance is about to literally break the door down from nervous tension, he hears a soft sniffle, a whimper, a throat being cleared.

“Keith?” he asks,

“I'm almost done.” A very shaky voice replies. 

He sighs, relieved that Keith was able to talk, yet more stressed about the sound of his voice, “Okay, I'm waiting out here.” Lance calls back as casually as he can and makes his way over to sit on the bed.

Lance just knew that he really wanted Keith to be able to trust him, he wants to help him. Lance can't stand seeing someone suffer like this, he doesn't know who to call or how to get help but If Keith was trying to escape earlier he must have a destination in mind. 

Lance decides that He'll ask if he can take him somewhere right after he gets the food and medicine in him. He picks up his own plate of toast and eats it, annoyed at himself that he left his groceries in the alleyway, there was a perfectly good carton of eggs and jar of grape jelly that would of paired nicely and made the breakfast a whole lot more appetizing. 

He's finished his dry toast and is halfway done with the slightly bruised apple, too nervous to actually actually taste either, when the bathroom door slowly creaks open and Keith comes stumbling out. He wipes his eyes as he goes, Lance nearly jumps to his feet but sinks back last second because he already knows full well that any help would be refused. 

Keith's skin looks significantly too pale, he was light to begin with, but now the expanse of pale wrist show deep blue and red veins that stick out like visitor friendly paths on a nature trail's map. the braid, that Lance had so carefully done, had been pulled out and long, back length hair hang over his shoulders, tangled and greasy. The pants that Lance had lent were a horrible contrast to the rest of him, with their little fleece pieces of pizza's and neon color scheme. 

Keith sits heavily, and as far away from Lance as he can on the other side of the bed, rubbing the blade of his shoulder, refusing to look up. The blood on his back was now dried and crusted, Lance needed to hurry up and re-bandage his injuries before they got infected. Keith's nose is raw and red, eyes bloodshot, he has that glow that comes only after someone's been crying for a long while. Lance wants to comfort the other man but he has no idea how. It's not until Keith speaks up, does Lance realize he's been staring.

“What,” it's said like a challenge, raw and deep in Keith's throat. 

Lance scratches the top of his head, “It's nothing,” he assures, reaching to grab the tray, holding it out in display.

The time Keith had spent in the bathroom was more than enough for the butter to soak into the bread and make the toast slightly soggy in the middle. The apples had browned along the edges. Lance had wished he had something better, but he wouldn't until later that evening. “You can eat while I re-bandage you?” he offers. 

Keith stares at him, sizes him up and takes a glace at the food. “I'm not hungry.” he declares.

Lance shrugs, having fully expected the reluctant response, “I didn't think you would be but you should at least try to eat.”

Keith brows dip, he looks back at the tray again, one hand over his stomach.

“I could spoon feed you if that makes it easier.” Lance jokes, “do you prefer train or plane noises. Probably plane, but I don't want to assume.”

Keith looks at him like he's crazy, but the tiniest bit of tension leaving from hunched shoulders. Lance doesn't have to guess the reason he finally says okay, the dark bags under his eyes tell it all, he's too exhausted to protest any longer.

* * *

Keith manages to eat an entire piece of toast and two slices of apples, while Lance cleans and Bandages his wounds, before pushing the tray away. Lance would of preferred if He'd eaten the rest, but he decides not to push it. Keith looks like he's struggling to stay sitting so Lance easily helps him lay down on his stomach before going to grab the medicine. 

* * *

“What are they?” Keith asks staring at the tiny white pills in Lance's open palm, He seems more curious than anything, tilting his head a little, eyes wide, it would be cute if his voice wasn't tight with pain and his breathing wasn't strained. 

“They're aspirin” Lance explains, holding them out for Keith to take. He does after a long pause, holding them up to the ceiling light, as if looking for something inside. Lance just watches him, he's not sure why he's so surprised that Keith doesn't know what aspirin are but still. 

Keith looks at Lance with side eyes, “What do I do with them?”

“Shove them up your ass.” Lance says without a pause, 

Keith's eyes go wide, mouth open, and Lance feels bad but. 

“I'm kidding,” he laughs, Keith let's out a puff of air and lowers his head against the pillow, Lance catches the tiniest hint of a smile, Feels his heartbeat pickup. “You actually just swallow them, with water, like this.” he does the motion himself to show Keith how easy it is. 

Keith thinks about it, he really does, but can't seem to come up with a response. He asks a question instead, “What do they do?”

“Good question, They'll help with the pain.” this seems to be relieving to Keith for only a second, as he steels his gaze again a moment later. Lance knows the look well by this point, furrowed brows, mouth drawn in a tight line, eyes narrowed. The mistrust is obvious on his face. 

“Alright,” Lance ventures, “you probably won't believe me but Those will help you, they will make you feel better, I swear.,” he crosses his hand over his heart, fixing his posture, “scouts honor.” 

Keith eyes him up and down, “Then you take one.” he says holding the pills shakily back towards the brunette. 

Lance shrugs, he honestly had started getting headache so what the hell. He took one of the three pills directly out of Keith's palm and popped it in his own mouth, dry swallowing then chasing it with some water. Keith's eyes were wide again. 

Lance smiled as encouragingly as he could, “See? Now can you please just take them.” 

Keith laid his head down, so his cheek is mushed against the blue pillow, he doesn't take his eyes off of Lance and doesn't say no so the gesture is taken it as a yes. 

* * *

Keith drinks the water like he's never had water in his life, spilling some on the bed and himself, luckily it misses any place he'd be laying so Lance doesn't feel the need to change the sheets or comforter just yet. He will later, once he can get Keith up again and make him take a bath or something. The boy smells like blood, neosporn and sweat. 

Keith lays for a few seconds, completely silent and still to a point where Lance thinks he's actually passed out or something, then out of no where Keith groans, “It's not working.” 

Lance cocks his head, “Huh?”

“The medicine isn't working it- it still really hurts.” his voice breaks somewhere in the middle and Lance can't stop himself from reaching forward and sweeping some sweaty hair from his face, Keith flinches away, snapping Lance out of it real quick. 

Not quick enough to ignore the fever brewing there. Hopefully the aspirin would take care of that too, even so he'd put a fresh wet towel there soon.

“My hand just moved on it's own.” Lance excuses, Keith peeked up at him from the pillow, waiting for him to respond to his initial complaint, “The medicine takes a bit to kick in, just try to be patient.” 

Keith turns his head into the pillow, his shoulders shaking, he had been doing a good job distracting himself from the pain but it must of caught up to him.

“Hey.” Keith says, his voice muffled by the pillow, “Why are you helping me?” 

Lance thinks about it, “You were hurt and I couldn't just leave you.” 

Keith goes quiet for a little while, the two of them sitting there, Lance's words weighing heavy in the air. He wasn't sure what else to say, Maybe he could finally ask some of the questions he'd been dying to get answers to. 

“Lance.” Keith says again and Lane realizes it's the first time he's used his name,

“Keith.” he responds.

Keith swallows thickly, clearing his throat a little too loudly, “Could you talk to me.”

“About what?” 

“I-I don't care I just need a distraction.” 

Lance's eyes trail up Keith's back, the bandages he'd replaced looked good, the bleeding from most of his wounds had stopped, which was a nice thing to note. 

He ends up talking about the night before, his canceled flight, the old man Uber driver, the groceries he left laying in the street, then he talks about his family, tells Keith about everyone individually and the entire time Keith listens, he watches Lance, eyes pinched, breaths harsh and strained. 

Eventually his breathing start to even out and just when Lance is getting into a story about the first time he took his little sister surfing, Keith makes a noise, like a hum, adjusting his body into a more comfortable position. He seems to relax into the bed, sinking lower against the sheets, both of his arms under the pillow that his head rests on.

Lance stops his story where it is, “Did the medicine start working?” he asks, hopefulness tinging each word he speaks. 

Keith nods, “I feel it starting to fade,” 

Lance breaths a deeper sigh of relief than he intends, rubbing at his face, good.

He might finally get a chance to ask them now but while he's deciding which to ask first Keith speaks up, this time his voice much softer, almost a whisper like he's talking to himself. 

“I don't get you.” 

Lance raises an eyebrow, “huh?” 

It looks like it takes a moderate amount of effort but Keith manages to adjust himself to his side to face Lance clutching his ribs. “I don't get you... I mean, It's kind of sick isn't it?” 

“What?” 

Keith's words are slurred, his eyes barely open. Now that the pain had faded he had nothing left to keep him awake. “You do this to me, kidnap me... then bandage my wounds, treat me nicely and spare your medicine reserves? Why would you do that, It's so much more cruel than just killing me.”

Lance feels sick, angry, “I didn't do anything to you but help you! I told you already Keith I had nothing to do with this, I don't know who did, I just found you!” 

Keith stared at him blankly, then scoffs. “You can drop the lies, I know what you did-”

Lance is completely baffled, he stands,“Keith, I swear I didn't do anything! Why you think that is beyond me I mean do I look like i'm even capable?!” 

Keith glared up at him, “I don't know, yes?”

Lance takes a step forward, “You want to know the real reason why I'm helping you?” 

Keith's nods weakly, “I do.” 

“Because,” Lance folds his arms, “It's the most decent thing to do, when you see someone that needs help you HELP them it's that simple!”

Keith turns his head away, so that he's facing the wall, “I just- I can't believe you.” he says quietly, simply, eyes closing and breath evening out. 

Lance lets out a puff of frustrated air, “Why not?” 

Keith doesn't respond. Just closes his eyes and coughs wetly into the bedsheets, and that's when Lance remembers the fever he still needed to take care of. 

“Hold on.” Lance sighs, “I need to check your temperature before you sleep.”

“M'not sleeping.” Keith says stubbornly, and then falls asleep. 

A lump sits in lance's throat, there's something deeply troubling about Keith's lack of trust. He understood the initial panic, he understood the wanting to escape and maybe Lance was just sketchy or something but to think he'd do that to him, and then take care of him just to fuck with Keith's head? 

Lance swallowed thickly, feeling intensely sick for a moment. He had to grip onto the back of his chair to steady himself. He had so much sadness for the poor guy that his own back had started to ache in sympathy. 

A shower, a shower is what he needed. 

* * *

The pain radiating from Keith's back, coursing from his wings through his bones and sensitive skin, is what wakes him. Keith lays where he is for a while, willing it to fade, to lessen, to do anything but get worse. But it get's worse, steadily, churning his stomach. Keith feels like he might throw up if he moves, the room blurs, pictures and unfamiliar trinkets morphing in size and shape and he remembers where he is. 

Lance. Keith glances up through heavily eyelids to the end of his bed, the human was nowhere to be found. Keith pushes himself to his elbows, going slowly even though he knew he had to hurry, he fully anticipated Lance to come barging through the bedroom doors at any moment. 

Despite what Keith had said earlier, Lance didn't seem like a Killer, or even a bad person. He was handsome, and sassy, and a little annoying to be honest. He seemed like he actually did care, but that was a hard concept to grasp. Keith couldn't remember anyone being nice to him just for the sake of being decent. For whatever reason, the show of kindness sent a million warning signals to his brain, he wanted nothing more than to go off on his own and take care of himself, away from Lance and any other human. 

Human. Lance was a human, then what was he? Keith searched his muddled brain for an answer and came up short, he'd remember later, when the room stopped tilting. 

He couldn't trust the story or Lance, no matter how worried he seemed to be, or how upset he got when Keith had accused him of injuring him, tears from frustration forming in the corners of his eyes.

Keith needed to focus, 'snap out of it' He prodded himself, pulling his legs over the side of the bed, 

He should of done this before the medicine had worn off. It was bad before the pills, but now that he'd a taste of what it felt like to be relieved, it was so much worse.

His muscles ached and thinking back, it was completely possible that he'd pulled something in the struggle with Lance that very morning. He found himself wondering if Lance was injured from that as well, if he was he hid it well. Keith managed to get to his feet, legs felt like jelly but he could walk, the pain was bad, almost unbearable but he could deal. 

He could do this.

There was a window in Lances room, that Keith stupidly realized he could of used that morning, he fiddled with the lock, fingers weak and shaky but eventually he managed to get it unlocked, push it up, one arm clenched tightly around his burning chest. 

Bile rose in his throat as his back seized with pain, it took everything he had to swallow it back down. It leaves him breathless, bracing himself against the open window and gasping for air. The cold outside bites his face, harsh winter air leaking into the bedroom.

Keith somehow manages to get both legs over the ledge but falls out of the window onto the fire escape outside, snow doing little to cushion his fall. By some crazy stroke of Luck, he'd managed to Land on his side instead of his back. He lays there gasping and writhing for a few seconds before wobbling to his shaky feet. He had no time to wallow. 

Keith takes off down the stairs, keeping his eyes open for other humans. Lance had been right about one thing, it was stupid to jump from so high when his wings hurt like they did. He'd wait till he was on the ground, it would be safer that way.

Keith really wished that he had something to cover his feet, they were frozen by the time he got to the bottom of the fire escape, absolutely burning with every staggering step he took. 

There was an ally around the apartment building that probably lead to the front, he pressed on until he got there, thankful to have something to lean against as he walked. Now he just needed to figure out where to go.

Keith collapsed at the entrance to the ally, to catch his breath and contemplate the answer. He thought carefully about his his home and... his family.

his breath hitched suddenly, the ice from the ground had seemed to make it's way into his veins, blood going cold as realization smacked him hard in the face. 

He couldn't remember where he lived, who he knew, why he was here or even if he had a family. He didn't even know why he couldn't remember. 

Calm down, Keith thinks, he just needs to calm down. If he calms down it will come back. 

He looks around for something to focus on, distract himself with and finds himself staring at his profile in the reflection of a glass window. 

A scream get's cut off as all the air Keith's lungs leaves him at once. He shakily reaches up to the empty space behind him, feeling for wings that are simply not there. 

Keith tries to catch his breath to no avail, his chest heaving forward and gasps of air slipping through his lips faster than he could hold them in. His back aches, his muscles ache and he feels nauseous, he shakily brings a hand up to cup over his mouth, he can't think or breath- His wings were gone, they were clipped and the medicine had poison after all, maybe he was dying maybe Lance really had tried to kill him-

“Keith?” Keith jumps so hard he his his back against the wall of the ally and can't keep in the choked scream that comes out of him. Why do they hurt so badly? 

He looks up to see non other than Lance, holding a big brown bag of something, eyes wide, Keith attempts to scramble away but Lance doesn't do anything but kneel down, his eyes wide, brows knit so closely together they almost touch. Keith had expected him to be angry but the look on his face screams with worry.

Why, why was he so worried.

“My wings you-”

“Oh shit, Keith I didn't-” 

“Did you poison me?” Keith chokes between breaths and Lance recoils, shaking his head hard in a way that obviously means no.

“I swear.” Lance says quickly, “I think you're hyperventilating just hold on-” 

Keith grips Lance's wrist hard, “My wings- they're why did- they're” He can't get his words to come out in order, to make sense. He can't even breath properly.

Lance quickly empties one of the brown bags he's holding, a sweet smell and wrapped food come poring out into the snow, Lance quickly hands the now empty bag to Keith. “breath into this!” he orders, Keith stares at it for just a second before he complies.

They sit there in the ally together, and the bag really does help, eventually Keith can breath again he feels completely deflated now though, void of any energy or drive to go anywhere or escape because now he knows there's no where for him to go. His arm drops to his side in the snow, the paperbag still clenched tightly in his fists. 

“A-Are you okay?” Lance asks and Keith can't bring himself to lie or nod his head. “How the hell did you- oh... Shit” Lance slaps a palm against his forehead, “the fire escape.” 

“My wings.” Keith says numbly, he forces himself to look back at the glass, but Lance is suddenly blocking his view. 

Lance lets out a shaky breath, “Don't look.” Keith uses all his remaining energy to try and push Lance off of him.

“They're gone” 

“I- I know.” Lance bites his lip, he has tears in his eyes, which he quickly brushes away.

“You didn't tell me-” 

“I- I know, I'm sorry.” 

“Why?” Keith breaths. He feels sick, he can't fly anymore, the lost aches deep in his chest even though he can't remember ever flying. His memories are scrambled and missing. 

“Jesus Keith, I didn't know how to tell you. I was going to wait until you were a little better but-” Keith can't bring himself to say anything. He's trying hard to get his memories to sort themselves out. His head hurts. 

Lance swallows, his voice shakes, his hands shake as he attempts to get Keith into a better position, “Let's get you inside, god you must be freezing-” 

“I don't remember-” Keith tells him, before he even think about who he's telling it too, 

Lance blinks, confused.“It's okay, you'll be okay, j-just save it for inside,” Before Keith can say anything else Lance is taking off his coat, then his gloves and scarf, putting the articles of clothing over various parts of Keith's body, he's wearing a hat which is pulls off last and places carefully over Keith's head. Lance gathers the food in his arms quickly, “Can you walk?” he asks. 

Keith meekly shakes his head yes. Lance uses his free arm to help Keith to his feet, staying on the glass side of him so the reflection is out of his sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 was pretty much already written which is why i'm updating it so quickly. 3 will take a bit because i'm only 2 pages into it. <3
> 
> Thanks for reading! feedback is always appreciated :) <333

**Author's Note:**

> this is a repost from my main account bc i thought it would be better here!
> 
> LMK what you think <3 i really appreciate comment/feedback
> 
> chapter 2 is already done but imma wait a few days before posting it while i work on chapter 3


End file.
